


Only Time

by LoversAntiquities



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Eggs, Caretaker Castiel, Discussion of Pregnancy, Eggs, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Nesting Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2019-01-06 16:16:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12214368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoversAntiquities/pseuds/LoversAntiquities
Summary: Dean finds Castiel's nest, and a secret Castiel has been hiding for a few weeks--that he's been caring for other Angels' eggs.





	Only Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xylodemon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xylodemon/gifts).



Castiel has a nest.

The only reason Dean knows he has nest is because on multiple occasions, he’s wandered in and forcibly dragged Castiel out of it under the pretext of food or hygiene or just to see the sunlight. “I haven’t seen you in two days,” Dean told him last week, hands on Castiel’s shoulders while Castiel’s head lolled back, half asleep. “You’re startin’ to worry me, man.”

“I’m comfortable, though,” Castiel mentioned, sounding oddly pleased with himself. “I’m comfortable here.”

By here, Castiel meant the bunker—and also by here, he meant Dean, a fact that still floors Dean every time he thinks about it. Castiel hasn’t exactly fallen, but he’s not exactly fulfilling his heavenly duties anymore either; now, he hunts, he sleeps at Dean’s back in motel rooms, and eats the greasiest thing he can stomach at diners and out of fast food windows, just for fun. If anything, he’s enjoying himself, now that Heaven isn’t watching his every move and demons have stopped clamoring over themselves to kill Angels.

Castiel is here, living in the room across from Dean’s, and Castiel is staying—some days, Dean still can’t believe it.

And the evidence is hidden behind Castiel’s unlocked door, a massive nest taking up the entire room. Mattresses line the floor from wall to wall, with electric blankets laid over them and down comforters on top. Loose sheets hang from clothesline bolted into the walls, forming a tent at the center, all lit by the fairy lights draped over top, bathing the room in a soft, warm gold. Dean can’t even begin to fathom the number of pillows he has, probably somewhere in the dozens, all propped up either inside the tent or around it, leaving more than enough room to relax in the glow.

If Dean ever had a fantasy about building a pillow fort, Castiel has effectively blown it out of the water.

Today, Castiel isn’t here, or at least he won’t be for another few hours. At some point before dawn and before Dean could lean over for a kiss goodbye, Castiel disappeared to run an errand, supposedly in Colorado, and supposedly with Sam. Whatever the story, Dean couldn’t bother to listen, and proceeded to sleep for the rest of the morning.

Hours later, and he’s alone. Dean is alone in the bunker for the first time in two weeks, and Castiel’s room is open and calling him, beckoning him inside. “You really outdid yourself, didn’t you?” Dean says to no one, yawning out loud. Never once has Castiel ever said he couldn’t go inside, nor did he expressly tell Dean not to go nap in there. But it looks so warm, like everything he’s ever dreamed of and everything he’s never been able to have.

 _Castiel won’t know_ , his mind tells him. Castiel won’t care, considering he sleeps in Dean’s room every night, anyway. Gingerly, Dean steps inside and closes the door behind him, bare feet pressing into the plush mattresses and sinking into the blankets. It’s even softer than he imagined, and comfortably warm, the heat seeping into his hands and knees when he kneels. He could sleep outside of the tent, even, given the chance; it’s almost eleven in the morning, and Sam and Castiel won’t be back for another few hours, or however long it takes to do whatever he’s doing. _I should really listen more_.

Inside the tent is even warmer, the sheets overhead dotted by light. Inside, the blankets are even softer, these intended for rest; Dean runs his fingers over them before moving to lie down, drawing the covers over him up to his neck. Not too hot to make him sweat, but warm enough to make him sluggish, the ache of living calmed just from touch. “Shoulda invited me,” he murmurs into one of the numerous pillows, tucking an arm underneath. “Keepin’ secrets—”

That’s when Dean sees it, and honestly, he doesn’t know why he hadn’t noticed it before. In one corner of the tent sits a sky blue egg, dotted with silver and white spots and wrapped in blankets. It doesn’t do much, but occasionally, he can see it twitch, the outer surface of the shell lifting and settling. Light emanates from inside, a steady glow that feels more like lamplight than something alien.

“Cas,” Dean whines, pulling the pillow tighter, half-liddedly staring at the egg. “Better not be pregnant.”

“The last I checked, I wasn’t,” Castiel echoes from outside the tent; the only thing that keeps Dean from bolting upright is the thought of disturbing the egg.

Through a flap, Dean watches Castiel crawl inside, dressed in a long sleeved sweater and jeans, with one arm cradling another egg, this one a bit smaller than its sibling, but solid black, splotched with uneven jade spots. It isn’t as active as the other, the blue egg now twitching from Castiel’s presence.

This has to be a dream—he’s still asleep in his bed, and he didn’t just crawl into Castiel’s… incubator. “All I wanted to do was sleep,” Dean complains, flopping onto his back. Castiel just laughs and, with his free hand, arranges an abandoned blanket into a mound, placing the new egg on top of it. “Is this what you’ve been doing? Running a nursery?” He blinks and sets up, head in his hands. “Oh God, did I knock you up?”

Under his breath, Castiel snorts, one hand covering his face. “I assure you, nothing you’ve done has gotten me pregnant.” He sits after a moment, reaching over to take the blue egg in his arms; it wiggles relentlessly, but ultimately calms, nestling close to Castiel’s wool-covered chest. “I’m watching over them for my siblings while they’re traveling.”

Another blink; Dean racks his brain for an explanation, to understand just why Angels are procreating in this climate, and how it happened in the first place. Though, that’s probably a question best left unanswered. Birthing humans is one thing, but an egg? Dean shudders, holding himself tight. “So what, Angel day care?”

Castiel shrugs; he smoothes his hand over the surface of the egg, the shell rising up to meet him. “They feel I’m safe,” Castiel explains, leaning down to kiss the oblong tip. “The bunker has always been known to Angels, and they feel, despite you and your brother’s reputation in Heaven, that if we live here, then this is a prime spot for their young to be reared. I pick up their egg and wait for them to return for it at a later date.”

As weird as it sounds, it makes sense; the bunker is virtually impenetrable to monsters, and only specific Angels are permitted to enter. Dean may have known Castiel for almost a decade, but this is a side of him he’s never seen, downright gentle and nurturing, from his lingering touch to just how he looks at it, like he wants one of his own. Angels are meant to love, at least that’s what Dean had always assumed; but from the way Castiel handles this unhatched child, and the gaze he gives Dean in return, maybe in a way, at least one Angel really does care, and with all his heart.

“Whose are these?” Dean asks, reluctantly pulling himself from the bedding to sit atop it, his legs thankful for the slightly cooler air. His eyes linger on the black egg, catching Castiel’s attention.

“Asasiel and Zaphkiel have paired together, like many others, to attempt to restore the population of the Host,” Castiel supplies. “These are theirs. This one,” he stops to gesture at the blue egg, its surface twitching again, “is a few days from hatching. The other was just born this morning.”

“Wow,” is all Dean says, words lost on his tongue. Sadness plagues Castiel’s eyes as he holds the child, something close to forlorn but not quite making it. “Cas,” he whispers, reaching out to cover Castiel’s knee. “You sure you’re okay? I know you’ve been saying you’re fine, and I’ll believe whatever you say, but… This can’t be easy for you.”

It takes a minute, but Castiel shakes his head; kneeing his way across the nest, he sits beside Dean, their arms brushing, egg cradled in his lap. “I figure,” he swallows, resting his head on Dean’s shoulder, “since it’s my fault that our numbers have dwindled, then I can act as a surrogate. Angels don’t trust easily, let alone each other. But… they’re entrusting me with their unborn children, and I’ve treated them as my own.” A sigh; Dean kisses his hair, snaking an arm around Castiel’s shoulders. “All I’ve ever wanted is to be accepted, and if this is how I can atone…”

“They’ll come around,” Dean whispers. “They’ll trust you again. Hell, it took me ’n Sammy a while to, and now look at us.”

Castiel huffs, stroking the egg. “I highly doubt they would be accepting of our relationship, Dean.”

“They’ll accept us, just like they will you,” Dean laughs. Holding out his hands, he asks, “Hey, can I hold it?”

Straightening his back, Castiel mulls it over before maneuvering to sit in front of Dean, their knees touching. “They’re very responsive to touch,” he says, cradling the egg against his chest. “Any negative thoughts can hinder their gestation.”

“So clear my mind?” Dean assumes, chuckling at Castiel’s resulting grin.

“Treat it as a human child.” Cautiously, Castiel steadies the egg and passes it to Dean. The exterior shell resembles what he always imagined an ostrich egg to feel like, rigid and bumpy along the surface, but warm in his hands; inside, the child reaches out, and Dean can feel its fingers against his own, can feel its head pressed close to his chest where he holds it close.

 _This is a baby_ , Dean realizes belatedly; there’s an unhatched child in this egg, and it can sense him: his thoughts, his energy, his soul, everything. Pure, untainted, innocent life, hidden from sight, but there nonetheless. A soul that hasn’t witnessed Hell, hasn’t experienced the betrayal of family or the horror at watching the destruction of everything they ever loved. And the look Castiel gives him doesn’t stop his heart from twisting, like Castiel is unbearably proud of him, eyes alight with admiration, with love.

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Castiel thumbs his eyes dry, afterwards kissing the tip of his nose. “You’re alright,” he soothes, running his hand down Dean’s bicep. “I can take her if you don’t like it.”

“No, no,” Dean laughs. He holds the egg closer in reply, kissing the surface, only to feel it burn hotter, the blue light from inside glowing brightly in his arms.

“She knows you’re pure,” Castiel whispers, just as it twitches again, curling in closer to Dean’s chest. “She can feel your soul.”

“Swear, you guys are just obsessed with my soul,” Dean mumbles, albeit with a smile. “I kinda want one.”

Castiel blinks, lips parted ever so slightly. “You want a child?”

A shrug; Dean holds the egg closer. “Not right now, but… some day? Maybe when we stop hunting and we can raise a few without thinking someone’s gonna bust through the door. Don’t even gotta be Angels, maybe we can adopt, or… Can you get pregnant?”

Originally, Dean meant it as a joke, but Castiel’s resounding “Yes” leaves him gaping in the aftermath. “But not in this body. It’s easier to carry child within our Grace, and when they’re ready to come into being, we leave them in our nests.”

Dean smiles into the egg. “Just when I thought I knew everything about Angels.”

Gently, Castiel rubs Dean’s knee, squeezing tight. “Would you like to sire a child with me?” All Dean can do is nod, suddenly too shy to look Castiel in the eye. “I’d very much like that as well.”

“Good,” Dean sighs. “Good, just… You’re too good for me, you know that, right? I mean, you’d wanna…”

The egg flares blue when Castiel kisses him, bathing their eyes in white; Dean can’t find it in himself to look away, not again. Never again. “I’ve always loved you,” Castiel says, breath warm against Dean’s lips. “Whether or not we have a Nephilim won’t change that.”

“Yeah,” Dean says. Between them, the egg burns, a hand reaching out to touch Castiel’s where his and Dean’s are joined, their fingers threaded together. “Can I name her?”

Castiel chuckles. “This one, or the future?”

“This one.” In Dean’s lap, the egg wiggles. “Lily?”

“That’s a beautiful name.” Castiel’s smile warms Dean, all the way to his toes. “I think she’ll appreciate that.”

Dean grins, kissing the egg again. “Yeah,” he breathes, eyes slipping shut. “I hope so, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Otherwise known as, "the one where Dean just wants to take a nap." Also, this was sparked by a HEPA air purifier I bought that's shaped like an egg, which I then proceeded to torture Julie with. ENJOY YOUR EGGS, JULIE.
> 
> Title is from the Enya song.
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](http://tragidean.tumblr.com) and [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/loversantiquity).


End file.
